Failure
by ALEO
Summary: Sometimes no matter how hard you try or what you risk you just can't solve the case. 9 chapters and epilogue. All done and COMPLETE.:
1. Chapter 1

**Numb3rs – Failure**

_Disclaimer – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. Telford, however, is mine. _

CHAPTER 1

For about the tenth time that hour Don looked at his watch again. Almost time. He paced back and forth as he waited in the darkened room. His charge sat on a couch nearby watching some football game on the television, seemingly oblivious to the care and effort being taken on his behalf.

His charge was Danny Hendrik, a criminal turned informant demanding protection in return for giving evidence against his boss. From the moment they had arrived in this room he had complained about the room, then about the inability of the FBI to look after him properly before sitting himself down in front of the TV and started demanding room service. Don had steadfastly refused to run up any more dollars on his credit card, especially for someone who was treating him like dirt. It wasn't like he wouldn't get a full refund from the FBI, he would, it was just the principle of it. The atmosphere in the room was tense as a result but Don didn't care.

Guarding informants was not normally Don's line of work but staff were running short. _It just had to be today_, Don thought. The day that the FBI was running a training exercise predominantly for junior staff. As a result the FBI office was virtually operating on a skeleton crew. Don knew that his entire office was almost deserted, with the offices on other floors probably just as empty. Plus, the agents running this case had been completely unprepared for their suspect to roll over like this. As the case agents had to start jumping through the necessary hoops to get the immunity and protection organised for their suspect, now informant, they had asked a favour of Don.

So he had spirited the ungrateful informant out of FBI headquarters in one of the non-descript surveillance vehicles, bringing him here to this hotel a few blocks away. Not too flash, not exactly flea-bag either. Now he had to wait, he checked his watch again, hopefully only a few more minutes until his relief was sent to take over. That had been the deal, he would get the informant out and safe to a hotel and they would find someone from their staff to do the baby sitting within an hour. The informants attitude had made the hour drag interminably.

Finally there was a knock at the door. Taking no chances Don drew his gun, and tapping the informant on the shoulder motioned him to move into the bedroom off the lounge area. The informant looked pained at leaving the ball game but Don was in no mood to put up with any more of his nonsense. He raised his gun hand slightly and Hendriks got the message and moved. Don had nothing to do with the case and until the deal came through as far as he was concerned the man was still a suspect in his custody.

Don approached the spy-hole in the door. He'd earlier drawn the blinds to darken the room so that when this time came he would not give away his position at the door by his shadow passing over the lens. Agents had been killed that way in the past. A shadow on the lens and the enemy knew someone was behind the door and it was a simple matter then to shoot through the door and take out the agent.

A man stood in the hallway, dressed in a dark suit that practically screamed FBI. He was standing calmly, holding up an ID card and FBI badge. The agent waited a few seconds longer then slowly stepped back a couple of small steps until he was at least halfway across the hall. Don watched as the agents eyes flicked to each side as he waited. It was standard procedure, straight out of the rule book. By the relief agent stepping back he allowed the agent in the room to see if someone was standing beside or behind him holding him under threat.

"Yes?" Don asked after the few moments of quiet observation.

"Agent Telford." The man announced quietly putting away the badge and stepping forward. "Sorry agent, but there was no coffee downstairs."

Don finally relaxed. That was another standard code, no coffee meant there were no problems. If the agent was under duress he wouldn't have made mention of coffee at all. Using coffee as a code was just an in-joke, since coffee was officially one of the food groups for law enforcement officers. After one last automatic check to the limits provided by the spy hole he holstered his gun and opened the door.

Don started to step back expecting the other agent to follow him into the room but Telford stuck his hand out for a handshake. "How did you get lumbered with this job?" Telford asked pleasantly.

Don automatically stepped forward and reached out his right hand and started to say 'hello'. But the handshake turned into a grab. Don was yanked forward by the grip on his right hand causing him to overstep and put him off balance. He tried to pull his hand free from the other man's sudden vice-like grip. He almost succeeded when he became aware of a movement to his left. The sudden blinding pain to the side of his head made him forget about his hand, made him forget about nearly everything as all he could see was stars. He barely registered himself being pushed back into the room and falling to the floor. After the initial roaring sound in his ears Don could hear just fine but found it hard to concentrate or open his eyes. Or get off the floor as he felt waves of pain and dizziness, his arms and legs refusing to cooperate. He heard the door slam. His mind finally stated to kick back in, replaying the last half second. He remembered seeing the gun barrel just before it hit him on the left temple.

"No!" Came the panicked voice of Hendrik. "I never told them nothing. I wasn't going to tell them nothing!"

There were sounds of a struggle coming from the bedroom, the informant continuing to deny helping the FBI. Don remembered why he was there and what he was supposed to be doing, protecting the informant. Don tried to open his eyes and managed to catch a glimpse of a pair of shoes, no, they were brown boots, standing near him but pointed away.

_Come on Agent, get a grip!_ Don thought furiously to himself. He took a deep breath and lifting his head he shook it to clear it. Surprisingly that seemed to help and he opened his eyes again.

Mustering his strength he finally got his limbs to move and lifted himself from a prone position up onto his hands and knees. Balancing himself on his left arm he swept his right hand back to his holster. He actually touched the butt of his gun but a sudden kick to his side caused his breath to explode from his lungs and he fell heavily back onto the floor, his head thumping onto the minimal protection of the carpet. His vision started to go black as his body automatically curled onto his left side to protect his ribs from further assault. Unfortunately he was lying on his left side leaving his holster exposed and too late he felt the hand drawing his gun. His right arm shot out to grab for his gun but a second kick to his back near his kidneys stopped him as his back arched in pain.

Don lay on the floor eyes closed and gasping, unsure where he hurt the most. A few seconds passed and a hand grabbed him by the collar of his shirt hauling him up. He was being strangled by his own weight until he managed to get his hands and knees under him. The pressure on his collar eased and he was held steady. He discovered he was too dizzy to raise his head and so could only stare at the boots and lower half of the legs of the man standing to his right. He just managed a glance upwards and saw a gun being held by Boot's right hand, not pointed at him but ready. He had no idea where his own gun had gone.

In the next room Don could hear the informant being questioned. He looked over to his left but couldn't see anything through the doorway. There was just the one man guarding Don but he was too weak to do anything about it just then. He was frustrated, he knew this was his best opportunity, who knew how many men were in the other room, but he just couldn't act.

The informant was continuing to deny everything. "I just told them I'd turn evidence so that they would take me outside. I was trying to get to a phone to warn Soren!"

"So why didn't you ring him?" Came a measured voice that Don identified as Telford's.

"That pig FBI agent out there was watching me like a hawk. I couldn't get to it." The informant insisted, sounding more confident. Then added hopefully: "Did Soren send you to get me out?"

"Now, why would Soren do that?" Telford asked a somewhat smug tone to his voice. "He doesn't even know you were taken this morning."

"W-what?" The informant seemed taken aback and his voice came out with a quaver. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

"We are here to prevent a miscarriage of justice, Mr Hendrik. You have committed too many crimes to get off this lightly." Telford explained, warming to his topic. "You think you can turn State's Evidence and get a nice new name and a nice new house so you can start all over again."

"No!" The informant's voice suddenly rose sharply in panic. "No, don't!"

"Goodbye." Telford said politely.

A moment later a single gunshot silenced the informant. Don then heard a sickening thud as if a body had just hit the floor. Don knew the informant was dead, executed by Telford.

Don's body went into adrenalin overdrive, his heart started racing and his arms and legs trembled with the need to run, to fight, to get away. His turn was next, he knew it but he was still unable to prevent it. He was recovering from the kicks and the blow to his head but not enough. He started moving anyway but Boot's twisted and tightened his grip on Don's collar making it difficult to breathe as his shirt tightened around his neck. The material also put pressure on Don's carotid arteries and he started to feel light headed as the blood flow was restricted. It was an effective variant on a neck restraint designed to rapidly incapacitate an opponent. He felt himself starting to go limp.

Don heard footsteps approaching as world darkened. Don was pulled sharply upwards by his collar forcing him up to his knees. Boot's grip lessened, untwisting, allowing blood to flow through the arteries again. The effect was immediate and oxygen reached his starved brain. Don wobbled, still dizzy and now shaking from the extra adrenalin in his system but he was able to see and breathe again. But he knew that if the man let go he would fall, unable to maintain his own balance. Don tried to control his breathing, to regain control of himself. _Come on Donny_, he thought to himself, _get it together_. His life depended on it.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

_The disclaimer continues._

Telford stopped in front of Don. Behind him one man closed the door to the room and another stood near the hallway door. For the first time Don realised that there were three men with Telford. His hopes sank, he was still prepared to fight but he knew that the odds were impossible. Despite his resolve his body was not yet functional enough to take on one opponent let alone four.

"What is your name, agent?" Telford asked in the same measured, polite tones he had used on the informant.

"Special Agent Don Eppes." Don managed, seeing no point in refusing the information.

"Give me your badge and ID." Telford demanded holding out his free hand, the other held a gun down by his side.

Don knew it was foolish but he would be damned if he was going to be murdered and let this criminal take his badge from him. It meant everything to him, he had made many sacrifices for it and if he was going to die he wanted to keep it. "No."

A gun touched the side of his head as Boots again tightened his grip on Don's collar. Don couldn't move as the man on his left searched his pockets. The man found what he was looking for, pulling out the leather wallet and handing it to Telford.

Telford flipped the wallet open as he pulled out a cell phone and dialled a number. "It's me. It's done. The agent is Donald Eppes." He said, reading off the card. He then rattled off a string of numbers, Don's badge number.

Don stayed silent, cautiously looking around at the men, noting their positions. He could hear a slight buzz from the phone's speaker, enough to determine that the person on the other end was male, but couldn't make out what was being said. He was unsure just what this turn of events would mean. Who was Telford speaking to, and why was this person interested in knowing who he was? Any delay to his murder had to be good however. Don hoped it would be long enough for the real FBI agent sent to relieve him to arrive.

"Passcode." Telford demanded abruptly.

"What passcode?" Don answered cautiously, Telford knew far too much about FBI procedures.

Telford's gun hand came up, barrel pointing right between Don's eyes. Don couldn't help looking at the barrel, seeing the slight grey discoloration inside the barrel caused by it having been fired only a minute or so ago.

"I won't ask again, Agent Eppes." Telford said softly.

The gun touching the right side of his head was jabbed forwards, enough to make Don wince. He came to a decision, if it meant that he would live a few moments longer he would give up his code. The code was used to identify an agent to the dispatcher at FBI headquarters when information was requested over the phone. The information that these men could get with his code could be damaging but could also be traced and changed if necessary. If the worst happened and his body was found here, Don swallowed at the thought, there were automatic systems in place to freeze all of his passwords and his passcode access in the reasonable suspicion they had been compromised. Checks would then be conducted over all recent uses. If someone had made use of his code then they would be traced and caught.

"Alpha-seven-four-nine-one-Echo." Don supplied.

Telford's gun hand relaxed back to his side as he paced away repeating Don's passcode into the phone. Don waited as Telford had a quick, quiet conversation with someone before hanging up. Telford walked to the window and opened the blinds slightly, peering out.

Seconds that felt like minutes passed. Don was not the only one wondering what was going on. Although he was more than happy at the continued delay it was obvious that others weren't. He saw the nervous shifting of the men, fingering their weapons, one looked at a watch.

There was a gruff voice from the man at the door. "Let's get it over with and go."

Telford frowned, glancing at Don then facing the man at the door. "We wait. We need to be sure."

"It doesn't matter, it has to be done." Gruff Voice insisted. "He's seen us, he knows too much."

Don was well aware that he was on borrowed time. Gruff Voice made perfect sense, none of the men were disguised in any way and Don was a trained observer. His mind had already filed away a detailed description of each man. He had also witnessed the execution of the informant. He was a loose end that posed a severe risk to their continued freedom. In their position he would have disposed of such a threat long ago, when they first pushed their way into the room. Telford was compromising their position for some unknown reason that seemed to revolve around confirming who Don was. It seemed whoever had been on the phone must be making inquiries about Don. Deciding, it seemed, Don's fate. A fate that could only possibly be one thing, his death.

Upon that realisation his thoughts became deeper, darker. _Deserve it though, couldn't keep one man safe. He was your responsibility, agent, and you failed_, he berated himself. Why had he let himself be fooled into stepping out of the door and taking Telford's hand? He had allowed his master hand to be captured, blocking his access to his gun.

An extraneous thought struck him, who invented handshaking in the first place?

He growled at himself. If he had stuck with protocol and stepped back inside then the others would have been forced into following Telford in. He would have had a chance then to do something while they passed through the narrow doorway.

Don heard a scratchy sound, voices. It took a moment for his mind to figure it out. A radio, tuned to the LAPD band. Don could hear the voice of a dispatcher, but the volume was too low to make out the exact words.

"It's been called in. A unit is on the way." Gruff Voice announced. "Finish this."

Telford looked to his phone which remained silent. "How long?" A siren could be heard not so far away.

Gruff Voice listened. "One block. They're booking off already."

Telford glanced back out the window for the first time looking slightly less than supremely confident. He appeared to reach a decision. "Bring him."

The siren stopped as Don was hauled to his feet. The man to his left pulled Don's handcuffs from his belt pouch and snapped the steel bracelets around his wrists securing his hands behind him. If it weren't for Boots' grip on his shirt Don would have fallen as the room suddenly started to spin. He had thought he was getting better but the sudden movement didn't agree with him. He started to catalogue his condition. His ribs weren't broken, bruised maybe, and his back ached but he thought neither of them should cause him any real problems. His head however was a different story.

He was in dire straits but things were starting to look up. In the privacy of his thoughts he snorted, _yeah right, now I'm a hostage. Better than being dead though, _he argued back at himself


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

The disclaimer continues.

Boots' grip moved from Don's collar to his right upper arm as he was propelled towards the hotel room door. Don concentrated on trying to make his legs work properly despite the room still trying to wobble on it's axis. The pistol whipping he had taken had not been a glancing blow. He suspected he had concussion.

Once outside they turned left, making for the stairs at the end of the hall. As they reached the door and started into the stairwell Don caught a glimpse of the lift indicator at the other end of the hall, a car was on it's way up. They cut it close but the stairwell door had fully closed behind them before he faintly heard the 'ding' of the lift. It would be another few minutes before the cops had cleared the rooms and probably longer again before they could start searching for him.

They made their way rapidly down the stairs, five flights to the basement carpark level. Gruff Voice, in the lead, peered cautiously through the small window in the door before announcing it all clear and opening the door. Don automatically analysed the behaviour of his captors. He noted that even though it had been highly unlikely that the offenders had come prepared to take a hostage with them on their escape, they were able to adjust their plans on the fly and work as a well oiled team. This meant that they had worked together before in situations of stress and probably had military backgrounds.

Two spaces along was a brown delivery van, like the thousands of other vans that moved daily through LA. Don was pushed towards the side door as someone used a remote on the central locking. The door was pulled open and Don was shoved inside. He twisted as best he could to protect his head as he fell, unable to step up in time. He landed on his bruised ribs causing him to grunt at the pain. At least he didn't hit his head and the dizziness finally seemed to be subsiding.

Telford swiftly pulled off his tie and suit jacket and tossed them into the back of the van. He reached down just inside the door and pulled out a battered delivery driver jacket which he quickly shrugged into. Telford and Gruff Voice then climbed into the front as Boots and the other man got into the back with Don.

Boots raised his gun, pointing it at the prone agent. "Not a sound."

Don just looked at him. Boots decided that his message had got across and slid the door closed before turning to pull across a curtain that divided the front of the van from the rear. As the van moved off he saw that the only windows were on the back doors and they were heavily tinted. It was dark in the back with only a little light coming through the windows from the fluorescent lights in the carpark. Don could still make out the two men with him, one seated near the rear doors and Boots near the side door. He could see from the way they were sitting that they both had their guns trained on him even if it was now too dark to see the guns directly. There was no way he could take one out without the other shooting him. He sighed mentally, with his hands cuffed behind him it was a moot point anyway.

The van stopped briefly, it must have been at the exit as he heard Telford exchange some meaningless chatter with someone about 'the next delivery' and so forth. The van started forwards again and from his position on the floor Don could see the side of the building as they turned out onto the road and drove steadily away from the hotel. A second siren could be heard approaching and then passing. They were away clean, driving normally through the busy streets not calling attention to themselves by fleeing the scene.

A few blocks later Don heard a cell phone ring from up the front of the van. He heard Telford answer it and then after a pause he heard Telford arguing softly. Telford was too quiet and the noise in the back of the van just that bit too loud for Don to make out what was being said, just the tone of the conversation.

For the first time Don remembered his own cell phone, tucked safely in the front pocket of his trousers. Right where he couldn't easily reach it with his hands cuffed behind him. If he had time and was unobserved he would have to make a try for it. He had the FBI emergency number on speed dial and had unfortunately had to use it often enough in the past that he was confident he could press the right button even holding the phone behind him. He glanced carefully at his guards but found they were looking right back at him. This just reinforced his earlier assessment of them, they were definitely professionals.

As the minutes went past Don tried to relax himself, the shakiness from the adrenalin dump in the hotel room had eased. The interior of the van still occasionally had a tendency to spin and he was now feeling slightly nauseous but Don was starting to feel more confident that he would soon be able to take action when and if an opportunity arose. They had been driving for long enough now that the pressure of lying on his side with his hands cuffed behind him was starting to get uncomfortable on his shoulders and his injured ribs. He tried to sit up but a warning sound accompanied by the slight lift of Boot's gun stopped him. Instead he rotated his shoulders as best he could and shifted his hips slightly.

Not long afterwards the van slowed and finally stopped. Don heard the front passenger door open as Gruff Voice got out. A muffled clinking noise was followed by the sound of what could only be a metal gate being dragged across concrete. The van rolled forwards a short distance and stopped. The metallic scraping now sounded from behind them. Don looked out the windows and saw the top of a chain mesh fence. Based on his angle the fence must have been at least eight feet high. An industrial area of some sort Don deduced. He had no idea where however as there were lots of such areas around LA. He tried to figure out exactly how long they had been travelling since leaving the hotel however he knew that his perception of time would have been somewhat skewed by what was happening to him. He gave up, without more information he did not have a clue where he was.

The van drove on again after Gruff Voice had got back in. A few seconds passed then the van slowed right down. Don heard a humming noise that came from overhead before the van finally stopped. There was a clunk then the humming noise sounded again. Don then saw a roller door slowly descending behind the van. They had gone inside a warehouse.

The front doors opened and moments later the side door of the van slid open. Boots got out and turned to watch as the other man helped Don up and pulled him out of the van. Don stumbled slightly stepping down onto the concrete floor.

"Bring him here." Telford instructed as he walked away from the van to an office in the corner.

Don was taken into the office and pushed to his knees on the floor in front of Telford. The other men stood back except for Boots who remained out of sight standing behind Don. The classic execution position.

"You don't have to do this." Don said. "You're away clean. Killing a federal agent will cause you more trouble."

"Unfortunately agent, this has to be done." Telford replied in his soft, polite tones. "You have seen us and can identify us. This is nothing personal."

"Think about what you are doing. Killing Hendrik was one thing, he was a criminal and probably deserved to die. The investigation will be quick and probably less than thorough." Don lied, the murder would be very stringently investigated as it was a death in custody. He knew his argument was hopeless, however. He wondered how long it would take the LAPD to identify him as an FBI agent from the hotel records if the relief agent hadn't shown yet. He'd used his own name checking in. Then how long would it take for them to contact the FBI, find out what Don was doing and who he was guarding. All time that was ticking away before anyone even started looking for him. He knew that process hadn't been completed yet as his phone had not yet rung. He continued, "Killing me is stupid. They won't stop until they find you. Knowing what you look like doesn't really matter. There are lots of wanted men out there that we know what they look like, doesn't mean that they are caught."

Telford appeared unmoved and the safety on Boot's gun clicked off.

"Don't do this." Don said one last time. He didn't want to die but he wasn't going to loose his dignity by begging. If he couldn't present a reasonable enough argument as to why he shouldn't be shot then he wasn't saying anything more.

He thought of Charlie and his father. He knew that his death would come as a hard blow to them, still struggling with the loss of his mother even though it had been several years. He thought of the letter kept in his apartment and addressed to his family. He'd written the letter not long after coming back to LA, just in case something like this happened to him. In it he tried to explain why he needed to do his job despite the dangers and hoped that his family would forgive him for putting himself in harm's way to protect others. He'd been back for a while now and he was sure that his father and brother did understand after having been exposed more closely to his work. Knowing that the letter was waiting for them to read, however, brought a measure of comfort to Don. He closed his eyes, wanting the last images in his mind to be the faces of his family.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

_The disclaimer continues._

----------

_**A/N:**__ Thanks for all the great reviews! I have a few days off work at the moment so I'll be updating regularly. Enjoy..._

----------

"Wait." Telford said abruptly.

Don opened his eyes but hardly dared breathe or hope. Telford's next words crushed the small spark of hope that had flared.

"I'll do it." Telford announced. "Torch the van and wait for me outside with the car."

The safety on Boot's gun clicked back on as the three men left the room. Telford had his gun pointed steadily at Don's head as he followed his men over to the door and closed it behind them. Telford watched through the grimy glass for a few moments before coming back to stand in front of Don.

Don shifted slightly, pushing his toes against the concrete, moving his weight backwards. He was preparing to lunge at Telford, a manoeuvre unlikely to work but against one man Don had a slight chance and he was going to take it.

Telford just stood watching as Don heard a soft 'whumf' and saw a bright yellow flare through the office windows as the van was ignited. The yellow glow dulled to orange as Don waited just a little longer, giving time for the other three men to leave the warehouse before he moved. His left knee started to lift off the floor.

"Don't even think about it, agent." Telford said moving slightly to the side and lowering his gun. "Things aren't quite what they seem."

Don froze. It was amazing how fast the mind can process data under stress. He had been about to move when he heard Telford's words and saw his arm drop. He had been prepared to move despite the gun being pointed at him, expecting it to be fired as he did so. What he hadn't been expecting was the weapon to be pointed away from him. The surprise stopped him. "What do you mean?"

"Where is your phone?" Telford said, ignoring Don's question.

Don told him, watching as Telford placed a surgical glove on his left hand. Don then held still, his thoughts confused, as Telford recovered the phone. Telford started pressing buttons, going through the phone book and looking at the stored numbers.

Telford finally pressed a different button and Don could tell from the tone that a call was being made. "I have Special Agent Eppes. You can verify that by this phone number. He is in a warehouse at 7th and Quay." He listened a moment then continued. "You'll know which one, it's on fire. I suggest you hurry."

Telford pointed his gun into the air and fired two rapid shots, a double tap. He then hung up the phone and allowed it to drop clattering to the floor.

Don was staring at him. "What is going on?"

"My men need to think that you are dead." Telford explained.

"Why?"

"So that they will not come after you." He answered. He stepped closer to Don. "Lay down."

Don hesitated, glancing at the gun that was being held at Telford's side, before he rolled himself onto his right side.

Telford crouched beside Don. He reached out with this spare hand and undid Don's tie, pulling it from around his neck. "Onto your stomach." Telford then instructed.

Don complied and felt his ankles being tied together with his tie as Telford continued speaking. "My employer has decided that you should be left alive. You are a very lucky man Eppes, you don't realise yet what this will cost us."

"Who is your employer?" Don asked.

"You don't need to know that, you should be happy that he knows you and thinks highly enough of you to do this." Telford stood and started for the door. "Remember, my men think that you are dead. For your safety, and that of your family, I suggest you keep it that way for a while."

"How long?"

"You'll know." Telford ducked out the door, started to close it but opened it briefly. "You might want this."

A slim leather folder arced through the air to land next to Don. His badge and ID. Don looked up to see the door close as Telford left.

Don rolled back onto his side then sat up, scooting backwards until he reached the wall. He saw his phone lying nearby and worked his way over until he could pick it up. He flipped it open and hit the speed dial before letting it lie on the floor. Don bent down so that he could hear the emergency operator when he answered. Don identified himself then was interrupted as the operator assured him help was on the way. Telford really had called the FBI. Don could only wait, keeping a wary eye on the door and the steadily rising flames from the van.

--100--1111--1110--

Don was sitting on the rear step of an ambulance a short distance from the warehouse. Firemen were working to extinguish the blaze and prevent it spreading from adjoining warehouses as the paramedic worked on Don's head. He poked at Don's ribs and looked at the bruising to his back.

"How is he?" Megan Reeves asked.

"Mild concussion, possible bruised kidneys and bruised ribs. The office you guys found him in protected him from too much smoke inhalation." The paramedic answered as he packed up the wrappers from the dressing he had placed on Don's head. "He needs to go to hospital to have x-rays and CT scans to be sure that there is no permanent damage."

"No." Don protested. "I'm fine. I need to give my statement. We have to find these guys."

The paramedic was shaking his head, the expression on his face clear that he did not think delaying hospital treatment was advisable. Megan looked from the paramedic to her boss. "How about I come with you? You tell me what happened on the way. Your dad will kill me if I don't get you to hospital."

At mention of his father Don realised just how unlikely it was that he had survived this. He couldn't explain it away on good luck or any number of other factors by which he had survived being shot at in the past. Even when bullets had struck him he was able to move, to adjust the outcome. This was different. His survival had depended totally on someone deciding not to exert a few pounds of pressure on a trigger.

He didn't know just how much he would tell his family about what had just happened. For them to know that his life had been held in the balance by men whose best option was to kill him would be too much. But at lease he was alive and able to tell his father that he had been attacked. Far better than having Megan deliver a death message. "Have you told him yet?"

"No, I thought you might like to do that." She replied.

At that point Don noticed that she was holding his cell phone sealed in an evidence bag. "Give me my phone." He asked reaching out for it.

Megan held it away. "We need to get prints off it."

"He wore a glove. There are no prints aside from mine."

"Alright." Megan opened the bag but still didn't hand the phone over. "But only if you get in the ambulance and go to hospital."

Don growled but followed the paramedic's directions and allowed himself to be placed onto a gurney. The paramedic had to hold off on fitting the monitoring devices however whilst Don called his father.

Don kept the call short, grimacing as he hung up.

"Upset, huh?" Megan asked.

"Yeah." Don answered rubbing his face with his left hand, his right had a heart rate monitor attached. "Get your notebook out."

Megan started writing furiously as Don described the events of the last two hours. By the time Don was seen by the doctor at the hospital a sketch artist had arrived to draw the faces of his attackers.

Don, remembering Telford's warning, had Megan convince the hospital to list him under an assumed name. This caused his father some consternation at the desk arguing with staff who insisted that they had never heard of any Don Eppes. Alan was demanding to speak to the medical supervisor by the time that Megan made it to the desk to collect him.

"How is he?" Alan demanded, still angry. "Why isn't he listed? What's going on?"

"Mr Eppes, calm down." Megan soothed as they rode upwards in the elevator. "Don is alright. They want to hold him in for observation overnight. They expect he can go home in the morning. I'll let him explain the rest."

Megan led Alan to Don's door and watched him go in. She nodded at the agent standing guard and flipped through the drawings of the offenders while she waited.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

_The disclaimer continues._

Don bullied and argued with hospital staff as soon as he woke up. As a result he was walking into the bull pen at the FBI building only a little after 8:00am the next morning. He was pleased to see his team in and ready for a briefing on the case. He put up with the concerns and questions as they spotted him before steering the conversation back onto the task at hand.

"Danny Hendrik, 29 years old, mid level member of Soren's criminal organisation. He was arrested yesterday morning just after 10:00am and brought straight here to the organised crime unit. He told Agent Miles," Megan nodded at the agent sitting across the room, "that he would roll over on Soren for immunity and witness protection. Miles needed to arrange urgent protection so asked Don to get him to a safe house whilst they spoke to the DA and witness protection. Don took Hendrik out of here just after 2:00pm to the Jackson Hotel four blocks from here. The attack took place at 3:14pm. Don was then taken to the industrial estate at 7th and Quay where they torched their getaway vehicle and left Don." Megan summed up.

"They killed Hendrik just over an hour after Don took him to the hotel? How did they find him so quickly?" Colby asked.

"We're thinking they have someone on the inside." Megan answered looking at Don.

Don tapped one of the drawings on the wall. "Telford knew the procedure to take over watch at the safe house. He knew exactly what to say to get me to let him in. He also spoke to someone over the phone to get instructions. Whoever that was demanded my ID and passcode." He looked to Megan. "Have you got anywhere with that?"

Megan pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Don. "A male called our internal inquiry number from a payphone. He identified himself as Don Eppes, listed your badge number and passcode. He wanted information on an address. The address came up a blank."

"They had my passcode for over an hour, they made no other inquiries?"

"Nope. I think he was just trying to confirm your ID."

"What I don't understand is why they let you go." David spoke up.

"I don't know. They knew who Hendrik was and had no hesitation in killing him. There was no reason for them to bother to find out who I was but they put a bit of effort into doing so. Telford took my ID and rang his employer, then waited for a call back before dealing with me. They put themselves at great risk doing so. Telford later got the call back saying that his employer knew who I was and thought highly of me. It doesn't make sense; the smart thing would have been to get rid of me right at the start. I saw them all clearly." Don waved his hand at the four drawings on the wall. He turned to David. "Start going through my files, including my personal file, for letters. Look for positive reports." It was strange to look for complimentary letters rather than threats. But if it was someone who knew him and liked him then they may have written a thank-you letter and if so it would be in his files.

David scribbled himself a note on his pad. "Got it."

"Agent Miles, anything on the Soren angle?" Don asked.

Miles stood. "As best we can tell he still doesn't know that we had Hendrik. If that's the case then this had nothing to do with an attempted rescue of Hendrik."

"Telford said something about there being a miscarriage of justice if Hendrik was allowed to turn State's Evidence." Don recalled. "Check out the DA's office. Someone from there, a clerk maybe, must have passed on information of your application."

"It sounds like a vigilante group." Megan said. "They got information of Hendrik turning states evidence. They don't want him to get away with that so they kill him. They have you, Don, a FBI agent guarding him. They didn't know you and didn't want to kill a good guy. So they checked up on you. We need to see if there have been any other attacks like this on witnesses."

"On it." Colby said.

"Right. Lets get to it." Don said ending the briefing.

Megan approached him holding up a flash drive. "I have your statement here typed up. You'll need to go over it."

Don took it from her. He knew the importance of getting the information down as quickly as possible before he lost any details. "Thanks." He took it to his desk and plugged it into the computer. Before he went any further though there was something else he had to do.

Fifteen minutes later he was carrying a coffee back to his desk. He'd gone down to the armoury and filled out all the paperwork needed to get a replacement gun. There were a few more reports needed in relation to losing the other one but they could wait. He sat and started going through his statement.

The ringing phone interrupted his thoughts; he had been going over what Telford had said to him in the office at the warehouse. "Eppes."

He listed for a minute then hung the phone up. He rounded up his team. "Lets roll. LAPD's found four dead guys." He called as he grabbed his field jacket.

"Who are they?" David asked wondering why they were rushing out to the scene, they were already working on a case.

"Don't know, but LAPD says I need to go down there."

The waste land was not far from the warehouse where Don had been taken yesterday. LAPD had been checking the surrounding area for witnesses to the fire when information led them to the wasteland. When Don and his team arrived they found the area swarming with police, forensics and several coroners' vans. A white tent was set up a short distance away. After showing their badges the FBI agents were allowed through the perimeter and were directed to the lead investigator.

"Detective Harber." The middle-aged officer identified himself, gold shield hanging from a chain around his neck.

"Don Eppes." Don then introduced the members of his team. "Why did you call me here?" He couldn't think why he had been specifically asked for. Don hadn't yet authorised the release of the drawings of his attackers, deciding to wait a little while after the threat made against his family if made public he was still alive. The FBI were looking for them after almost shutting the local LEOs out of the case. The locals were only investigating the fire. His other current cases, on hold for the moment, didn't involve the LAPD either.

"Because of these." Harber reached into the car beside him and handed Don two clear plastic bags, one containing a note, the other an unopened envelope.

Don looked at the envelope and saw his name on the front of it. He handed that to Megan while he looked at the note written by hand in full block capitals in a blue ink.

'_CALL SPECIAL AGENT EPPES OF THE FBI.'_

Don looked to Harber. "We need to take these."

"Sure." Harber noted the exhibit log and Don countersigned as receiving the evidence bags.

"Can we see the bodies?"

"Right this way." Harber lead the team into the tent.

The four bodies were lying in a neat row. Each was lying with arms and legs straight as if they had lain down to sleep on their backs. Don immediately recognised three of the four men as Boots, Gruff Voice and the one he never gave a name to.

"It's them." Don said quietly, indicating the three to his team.

He stepped over to the unknown man. He studied his face for a while but nothing came to him. He didn't recognise him at all. He turned to Harber. "Do you have ID's on any of them?"

"No." Harber pointed at the three Don had recognised. "How do you know them?"

"They were involved in a murder yesterday." Don answered. "This one wasn't, at least not that we are aware of. I can't give you any more just yet."

"The hotel murder." Harber reasoned. He knew about that as it was LAPD who first responded before the FBI took over. He looked resigned as he added: "Are you taking this over as well?"

Don looked at Megan who nodded and took out her phone. As she called for FBI forensics Don confirmed Harber's suspicion. There would be official notification from his boss to Harber's boss later.

It took several hours for the scene to be handed over, all exhibits exchanged and signed for and statements taken from the first response officers. Another few hours for photographs and measurements to be taken and the bodies were finally loaded into the coroners' vans and taken away for autopsy.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

_The disclaimer continues._

It was late when Megan finally approached his desk back at the bull pen. She handed him two sealed plastic folders. Inside one was the now opened envelope and the other held a letter. Both showed signs of forensic testing.

"Any prints?" Don queried hopefully as he looked over the documents noting the same handwriting and colour ink as the other note.

"No." Megan shook her head. "Common envelope and notepaper you can buy anywhere, no watermarks or anything special. Same with the pen it's mass produced and available everywhere."

"So we got nothing."

"I wouldn't say that." Megan told him. "Handwriting and language analysis gives us a little. But read the message."

'_AGENT EPPES. I TOLD YOU THAT THIS WOULD COST US. I HAVE HAD TO KILL MY OWN MEN TO ENSURE THAT YOU ARE SAFE, AS MY EMPLOYER WISHED. THE FOURTH MAN IS OUR INFORMANT. HE MADE THE MISTAKE OF PROVIDING US WITH INSUFFICIENT INFORMATION, WE DID NOT KNOW WHO YOU WERE UNTIL TOO LATE. HE HAS PAID FOR THAT. THE MATTER IS FINISHED. DO NOT CONTINUE THE INVESTIGATION – TELFORD.'_

Don sat back. It still didn't really make any sense to him. He was too much of a liability to Telford and the mysterious employer. Why would they go to such efforts to protect him, killing their own people? "What else have you got?"

Megan sat down. "Just a little. The language indicates that this Telford is very confident in his abilities. He has no doubt about what he is doing and is intensely loyal to his employer. He is well educated and extremely intelligent. The handwriting is a bit harder, being in full block capitals. Normally that would be considered shouting but in this case I think it is more to disguise his handwriting."

"Wait a minute. If he wanted to disguise his handwriting he could have printed this off a computer. There's more to it than that."

"Yes there is. I think that he is sending you a personal message. His employer has respect for you, so does he. But he's pretty clear in his demand that you leave this alone. By explaining himself this way he is threatening that he could do to you what he did to his men if you continue."

"I know. But we've got to find them." Don insisted. "Telford is too good at this. They have to have done this before. He may have killed his men but he will recruit more. I think you are right about them being vigilantes. We have to stop them."

"Hey Megan, you were right." Colby said as he came back in from spending the last couple of hours in the file room.

"Yeah?" Megan turned. "Hows that?"

"There have been two other attacks with a similar MO in the last three years in LA." Colby put two files on the desk in front of Don. "In the first one they shot an informant who was to receive a payout for information. They killed the agent meeting with him. The second one was almost a carbon copy of yesterday, a criminal was rolling over on his boss for a deal. They killed him and the agent guarding him."

"Agents, not cops?" Don asked. "Both of them?"

"Yeah, both FBI. I couldn't see anything similar in the LAPD files."

Don didn't need to speak to Charlie to work out the odds of him having survived yesterday in one piece. "We need to find out what the difference was between me and those two agents."

"Already working on it. I'm having their full files brought up from storage." Colby said. He looked around, "Where's David?"

"Right here." Sinclair said coming out of a nearby office. He laid another folder on the desk in front of Don. "ID on the fourth victim, we're waiting for fingerprint results for the other three that you identified. His name is Benjamin Stern. He worked for the DA's office as a clerk. I don't know how you do it Don. You were right on the money. Agent Miles has come up with evidence that Stern received three large payments over the last three years, the last one went into his bank yesterday."

"What sort of payments, cash or transfer?" Don asked hoping for transfer.

"No luck on that. Stern made cash deposits each time. Yesterday he deposited ten thousand dollars cash at 4:45pm, just before the bank closed."

"Let me guess, he got paid around March three years ago and November last year." Colby stated.

"March 16th and November 1st."

"The last two attacks were on March 18th and November 2nd." Colby tapped his two folders.

"So this Stern is definitely their informant."

"You know, it's interesting that they are blaming what happened yesterday on Stern because he, how did they put it?" Megan checked the note, "By 'providing us with insufficient information'. They didn't have to act, they could have waited or made some more of their own inquiries. Previously they have waited a day or two, this was the first time they acted immediately. Why?"

"Have we got anything on what the deal was to be for Hendrik?" Don asked her.

"They dropped it off before, hang on." Megan went to her desk and pulled out a folder. She flipped it open and read off the sheet. "He was going to be taken to the airport and flown out to Miami yesterday afternoon. This means that they must have had no choice, if they wanted him that badly they had to act without checking everything first."

"The possibility of Hendrik getting off must have really upset them."

Megan flipped through more of the file. "I can understand why." She handed over Hendrik history of convictions along with a list of suspected offences.

Don looked down the list. An impressive list for a criminal who was only mid-level in Soren's organisation murder, assaults, torture, car theft and extortion, both proven and suspected. Don looked at the dates, many of the offences had been committed in Chicago before Hendrik had moved to LA to start over a few years ago. Now he understood Telford's comment about Hendrik moving on and starting over again. Hendrik had done it before and was rapidly working his way up in Soren's organisation, he would have been able to move on and start over in Miami. He looked at Megan. "The DA was going to make a deal with him, after all this?"

"They wanted Soren. Hendrik could give him to them." She shrugged. They all knew that the DA would make deals with the worst criminals at times in the hopes of catching someone bigger. The deals didn't always work and sometimes both the informant and the target got away with a lot more than murder.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

_The disclaimer continues._

Over the next few days the identifications came back on the three other men. Just as Don has expected they were ex-military, Special Forces soldiers. All with the type of training to allow them to think on the fly, to carry out and execute hasty plans and succeed at their missions.

Colby also dug up rumours of a group inside the FBI protesting criminals being offered immunity and protection deals for information leading to the arrests of bigger fish. But try as he might he could not find any evidence to suggest that such a group existed beyond the wishful thinking of some agents.

Unfortunately all the leads were rapidly drying up. They had not been able to ascertain how Stern provided his information, no phone calls to mysterious persons on his phone records, no mysterious e-mails. All interviews were likewise unable to shed any light on his contact. The military men were also mysteries. They had been honourably discharged several years ago and had not had any contact with each other that they could establish whilst in the armed forces. Then they had each dropped off the face of the Earth within two months four years ago. No known bank accounts or places of residence, no criminal records and no parking tickets. They had become ghosts.

Nothing could be found on Telford. Don scoured every photograph of recent and present FBI agents in the LA area even remotely resembling Telford without success. The exercise only proved to give Don a headache.

--100--1111--1110--

It was about two weeks later when their next lead developed. Don had arrived at work, early as usual and logged onto his computer. He got his coffee whilst his e-mails were downloading. He worked his way through them, stopping when he got to one from an external source that looked like an internet café.

He opened the message and saw that it was blank with an attachment. Don checked that the attachment had been scanned by the FBI virus checker then saved it to his computer before opening it. He frowned when he saw it was in code. He looked at the first line and was astonished to see that it was a header identifying to those in the know that this was a FBI encryption. It was also the latest edition, released just this week. Don made a copy of the message before he washed it through the translation program on his computer.

'_AGENT EPPES. THIS IS THE LAST WARNING. DO NOT INVESTIGATE FURTHER. WE DO NOT WANT TO REGRET ALLOWING YOU TO LIVE – TELFORD.'_

Don waited for his team to arrive and showed them the message. "How did they get a FBI encryption? We must have missed something, there has to be an inside source." He insisted heatedly.

"We've checked everything." Megan protested. "We got nothing."

"There must be something." Don said frustrated.

Megan took the printouts Don had made both of the blank message carrying the e-mail header from the internet café and the coded message. "We'll run this out."

A few hours later Megan bought Don up to date. "The message was sent from an internet café on campus at CalSci."

Don looked at her sharply.

Megan correctly interpreted the look. "They've hinted that they know who your family are, this just proves that they know where Charlie is. They haven't directly threatened them, but they sure are letting you know that they can."

"Does the café have video surveillance? Who sent the message?"

"His name is Rob Waters, geology major. He was paid one hundred dollars and given a flash drive." Megan held up a plastic bag containing an old 128Mb flash drive. It had been in use for a long time judging by the wear on the casing. "No prints except for Waters. He was given your external e-mail address and told to send the file on the flash drive as an attachment."

"Didn't he think it strange someone was asking him to send a coded message to the FBI?" Don wondered. His external e-mail address had the extension _fbi.gov.us_, it would be obvious where the message was going.

Megan nodded. "He said the man told him that he was a confidential informant that had urgent information to give to you. He said that he couldn't risk being seen on surveillance camera. Waters said he was very convincing."

"Description?"

"Matches Telford. Right down to the politeness."

"I want every bit of surveillance footage from the campus and the surrounding streets. He has to show up somewhere." Don ordered. Megan left along with the rest of the team.

It was late, almost 6:00pm when Don left his desk. He hadn't heard a result from his team so he headed to the AV lab to see what they had found.

"Hey Don." Colby said as he entered before turning back to the monitor in front of him. He was watching students walking in fast forward along the footpath towards CalSci from an ATM camera. Megan and David were both watching monitors also playing on fast forward.

"I take it there is nothing." Don said.

Megan looked up tiredly, freezing her monitor. "Nope. We know he wasn't wearing a disguise, Waters described him exactly. He must have known where the cameras were and avoided them. There are a lot of black spots around the university, Don."

"I know." Don looked at the stack of videos and CDs that they had viewed. "Alright. Pack it up. Go home, let the techs follow this up tomorrow."

The three agents shut down their monitors and climbed tiredly to their feet. "G'night Don." Megan said.

"Thanks guys, good work." Don said. He knew it had been a long shot, Telford was too good but they had to try. As Telford had been at CalSci his team knew how much it meant to him so they had been viewing all the footage personally rather than let the techs do it.

Don was the last of his team out of the building, driving his SUV onto the main street. It was already dark and traffic was easing. He started heading towards Charlie's house feeling a sudden urge to visit him and his father. But he had second thoughts before he'd gone a block. Telford knew where his brother worked, it was beyond coincidence that he had been at CalSci, but he may not know where Charlie and their father lived. Don realised that he didn't really believe that, it was more than probable that Telford knew their address. But on the off chance, Don didn't want to lead him to it. At the thought he carefully checked his mirrors, as he had been doing ever since that day. As always no sign of a tail.

He was nearly at his apartment when he remembered he needed milk. He pulled into the gas station a few blocks away and bought some milk and some bread. He went back to his SUV, pressing the button on his remote to unlock the doors. He was still preoccupied with the case and didn't notice the softened sound that the lock actuators made, indicating that the doors were already unlocked. He climbed in, placing his purchases on the seat beside him. He put the key in the ignition and was about to turn it when cold metal touched him on the neck. Don froze, eyes darting upwards to the rear vision mirror.

Straight into Telford's eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

_The disclaimer continues._

"Good evening, Agent Eppes." Telford said calmly. "Your gun please."

Don thought of refusing but Telford flicked his gaze out of the SUV's windscreen. Don followed the line of sight and saw a group of young teenagers leaning against the wall sipping on their sodas. A gunfight here would involve innocent casualties. Don felt a flush of anger, Telford knew him so well, knew that he would not jeopardise others. Slowly and with exaggerated care Don pulled the Glock from the holster and passed it up over his shoulder. It was then that he noted Telford was wearing surgical gloves. There would be no prints this time either.

"Phone." Telford accepted the device, turning it off, before ordering: "Drive."

Don started the engine and pulled out of the gas station. Following directions he soon found himself travelling along the freeway headed out of LA. Not long after getting onto the highway, the rear window was wound down slightly and Don saw his phone being dropped out the window. There would be no tracking him via the GPS chip, Telford was taking no chances even with the phone turned off and the chip theoretically disabled. Don tried several times to get Telford to speak but he refused to answer, simply sitting back in the centre of the back seat wearing his seatbelt. Telford had forbidden Don from putting his own belt on when they left the petrol station. This took away one option that Don had of crashing his SUV as it would be him, not Telford, going through the windscreen.

LA was some distance behind them before Don was directed to turn off the freeway and then onto progressively smaller roads until they ended up on little more than a desert trail. They continued on for a few miles before Don was instructed to stop.

"Keys."

Don handed them over.

"Switch on the interior light." When Don complied Telford added: "Now cuff yourself. Let me see you do it."

"What do you want?" Don demanded.

"I want you to cuff yourself, Agent Eppes." Telford repeated, pressing his gun into Don's neck. "Then we can talk."

Telford sat back moving out of reach as Don reached awkwardly behind him and pulled out his cuffs. He twisted in his seat so that he could show Telford his movements as he snapped the bracelets around his own wrists and locked them. Leaving them unlocked would allow Telford to tighten them, locking them gave Don some small measure of control. Telford reached out his free hand and checked the cuffs, appearing satisfied that Don had fitted them correctly and would not be able to pull his hands out.

"We have warned you what would happen if you continued your investigation." Telford started sliding over further to his right on the back seat so that Don could turn in his own seat and face him.

"If I gave up every time someone tried to warn me off I'd get nothing done." Don replied evenly, desperately trying to stay calm when he felt anything but. "If you think you know me then you would know that."

"Unfortunately I do. I felt that letting you go was a mistake but I was overruled. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing but admiration and respect for you Agent Eppes, but you are too dangerous to us."

"Who overruled you? Who do you work for?"

"Suffice it to say that it is fortunate for you that I am following orders. You would be dead by now if I wasn't."

"I get that. So if you can't kill me what are we doing here?"

"Don't make the mistake thinking that I can't kill you, agent." Telford warned. "If it gets to the point that you are near to identifying who we are then your immunity is over. We don't want to kill you, but we will if we must. You know that we can get to you, either directly or through others."

Don looked Telford in the eyes for a long moment seeing the man's conviction. Don nodded tightly. "Alright, I believe you. What are we doing here?"

"You ignored our final warning."

"You've killed agents. I can't let that go."

"I didn't kill you. You owe us your life."

"I don't owe you anything." Don was suddenly angry. "You attacked me, killed the man I was guarding. You've done it at least twice before. One of those agents had a little girl."

"Those two agents were dirty, Eppes. You would die for them?"

"What?"

Telford tossed two envelopes at Don. "Open one."

Don saw that each envelope bore the name of one of the killed agents. He lifted the flap on one and carefully looked inside. He tipped the contents onto his lap once he saw that it there were only papers and photographs inside. The photos were of the agent that was killed three years ago. They were taken from a distance and showed him receiving something from another man. It was the same man in each photo. The papers contained lists of dates, times and places. "What is this?"

"Exactly what it looks like. Surveillance photos."

"How long had you been watching him?" Don was flipping through the pages but would need a slightly less stressful environment to make proper sense of the information. Right now it was all a meaningless blur. He awkwardly put the photos and papers back into the envelope.

"Long enough." Telford supplied. "He got the job to pay out the informant. He was going to take the money."

"So you don't just kill informants who are going to get away with their crimes when they get immunity. You deliberately target agents as well, agents that you decide are dirty. You could have just turned them in." Don said.

"The FBI keeps such things very quiet. Nothing would have happened."

"If they were dirty they would have been charged. Sent to prison. You didn't give them the chance of a fair trial." Don stopped suddenly. He asked warily, "Why are you telling me this?"

"You need to know who you are dealing with." Telford explained. "My employer felt that you would understand once you knew the truth."

"Yeah, I understand. You and your employer aren't prepared to follow due process. You take the law into your own hands. You commit murder."

"We call it justice. You aren't going to stop us. You just won't find us."

"Why's that?" Don asked.

"We have finished here." Telford spat out, finally showing emotion, anger. "We had good works planned but now we have to leave. Because of you. The lives of my men, good men, are on you. I had to kill them to protect you. You are a also a good man, honest and never turned a blind eye. But for this, for what my employer made me do to protect you, I would kill you."

Sitting in his car alone in the middle of the desert with a gunman in the back seat Don's slight feeling of safety due to his 'immunity' suddenly evaporated. He was starting to believe that Telford, beneath his calm and urbane exterior, was an extremist at heart. The type of person who could calmly kill a bus full of school children if he felt it necessary, or a single FBI agent who threatened him with exposure. He took a deep breath. "So what happens now?"

"You never see us again." Telford said regaining his calm exterior as if he had never lost it. "Turn around."

Don put the envelopes on the seat beside him. He looked back at Telford who raised his gun in warning. Don found the whole thing very weird. He just couldn't quite get a handle on the man. One moment he was sure he was about to be killed the next he thought he was safe only to be threatened again. Don turned back around, facing the windscreen. He watched through the rear vision mirror as Telford dug into a bag beside him on the seat.

Telford looked up abruptly and saw Don's eyes on him via the mirror. Telford reached forward and knocked the mirror out of alignment. "Eyes forward." He admonished as Don started to turn his head.

Don stared straight ahead as he heard more rustling noises behind him. Suddenly a pad was clamped over his mouth and nose. His automatic surprised intake of breath defeated him before he even started to struggle. He recognised the smell, chloroform. He raised his manacled hands and tried to pull Telford's hand away but he was already getting weak. Telford had the additional mechanical advantage of being able to clamp Don against the back of the driver's seat. Don refused to give up and continued to struggle. Telford maintained his grip, keeping the chemical soaked pad in place, knowing that the agent could only hold his breath for so long.

It took only two minutes for the agent to slump unconscious in the seat.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

_The disclaimer continues._

"Pick me up." Telford said tersely into his radio a few minutes later. He climbed out of the SUV and calmly shot two of the tyres. He attended to a few last chores. He then took one last look at the unconscious FBI agent knowing how easy it would be to put a round through his head. His hand flexed around the butt of the gun now holstered at his hip. His thumb moved over the thumb break, releasing it just as the vehicle arriving behind him interrupted his thoughts. Shaking his head at his employer's folly he reclipped the holster as he went back to meet to the other vehicle.

"He's still alive?" His employer asked.

"Yes."

"I know you don't approve." His employer stated. "But we cannot kill him. This is not what we are all about. He is really one of us, even if he doesn't realise it."

"I understand." Telford finally looked at his employer. "The cost was very high."

"Yes. Yes it was. But worth it."

Telford held his own counsel on that point.

The vehicle turned around and drove away.

--100--1111--1110--

Don first became aware of a raging headache followed by a raging thirst. Within a few moments full awareness returned and he jerked awake. His left hand went to his head and he suddenly realised he was no longer handcuffed. He looked wildly around him. He was alone. He grabbed his flashlight from the centre console and leapt out from his SUV shining the light around him in all directions. No one, all clear. He looked back at his SUV and grimaced when saw the two flat tyres. He started to reach for his phone before remembering it was somewhere on the freeway back in LA. Who knew how far he had to go to get to a landline phone, he hadn't exactly been paying attention to where the last sign of occupation had been.

Don turned back to his SUV and found the keys back in the ignition. He had a sudden thought and pressed his right hand onto his holster. His gun was back where it should be. He quickly drew it, ejected the clip and racked the action. He inspected the Glock and saw that it hadn't been tampered with. He replaced the clip and reholstered the gun. His discovered his handcuffs on the passenger seat along with the two envelopes Telford had given him. Don checked his watch and was surprised to see that it was almost four in the morning. He'd been out for a while. There must have been something else in with the chloroform.

He got back in and started up his SUV. Stumbling through the dark for who knew how many miles did not seem to be a good option at this point. He slowly turned his vehicle around trying to keep the tyres on the rims and rolled back the way he came. He could barely go 15 miles an hour but at least it was faster than walking pace. The probable damage to his rims was less of a concern than getting to a phone as quickly as possible.

--100--1111--1110--

"Nothing." David reported later the next day. "The only tracks along that road were from your vehicle. They found where you had been stopped based on the marks you made turning around. There were some footprints heading back a short distance then they stopped. There were some faint marks possibly caused by another vehicle turning around. But that area is more rock than anything else. Since we can't find tyre impressions other than yours we're thinking that they were also driving SUV with the same type of tyres."

"Great." Don said frustrated. "So we got nothing again."

"Sorry Don." Colby said.

Don spent the remainder of the day going over the file hoping for some new inspiration but they seemed to have covered all the bases. Sighing he put the file back together, walked over to a small filing cabinet and filed it in the drawer marked 'UNSOLVED'.


	10. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

_The disclaimer continues._

It had been eight months and Don had put the incident mostly out of his mind. Or at least he tried to. There were still flashbacks of the warehouse and the desert. Times in his life when he'd had the least control over his own destiny thus he was having trouble dealing with them. Not enough to cause him trouble in his work but it was still on his mind. His family and his team were unaware of his struggle and he was going to keep it that way.

He was early as usual, sitting at his desk reading the morning briefing reports from across the country when one item caught his attention.

_NY:NY – Witness Steven Andrew Shelton 41yrs shot execution style in safehouse. Special Agent GERHARDT badge number 783126 also executed. Nil suspects, nil witnesses. Investigations continuing. Notification of funeral arrangements for Special Agent GERHARDT to be advised. END._

Don's blood chilled. This was too much to be a coincidence. Telford, it had to be. A call to the FBI in New York soon confirmed that the MO was the same.

By the time Don's team had arrived for work he had already made a copy of his file and packaged it for immediate dispatch to New York. Perhaps they would have better success than they'd had. He also requested that they send him everything that they gathered on their case. His failure to solve that case, plus the new death of another agent weighed heavily on him.

END

_**A/N:**__ Thanks to all who read and reviewed. There have been some very helpful comments. All are welcome. For those who missed Charlie, he wasn't forgotten, there just wasn't enough data for him to work on. _

_I am currently working on another story where Charlie will be needed to work his magic to help the FBI and a few other agencies. Don will still be the lead character. I think it is going to be much longer so it may be some time before I post. __If I come up with something short in the interim it will be posted. _

_Cheers. :)_


End file.
